Ned Henry | To Say Nothing of the DogbloodypenwipersNovember 1 2011, 23:55:58 UTC
[Sup, Anatole! Have an exasperated youngish man with a slightly crooked moustache glaring at you.]
I cannot still be in the Victorian era. I cannot. Would you like to know why?
[He shakes the Forge violently.]
They didn't have bloody handhelds in 1880-whatever. I don't care how many waistcoats or bowler hats you lot have. Or jumble sales. Or penwipers. It's just not possible. I know that much, even without listening to the damn tapes.
[Deep healing breath. Deep healing breath. At which point something unsettling seems to occur to him.]
Unless we have damaged the space-time continuum for the rest of who knows how long that's going to be.
...
[He clears his throat and tugs at his tight collar.]
Right then. Where am I? Who are you? And can anyone named Verity hear me?
[Oh good god. It can't be. After everything, all the horrors, all the darkness and all the amazing things she has seen, she never thought she'd see him here.
Or she tried never to think that. But no matter how she tried, she'd never lost hope or faith that he would come for her, no matter what. A belief she held onto even when reason told her it was impossible.
So have a video, Ned, and a familiar face, too. Sorry, Ned, even though she's smiling she can't keep her eyes from tearing up a little.]
jfknjfk AKJDNKLFKbloodypenwipersNovember 2 2011, 04:07:17 UTC
Verity!
[You'd think viewing her on an itty bitty screen would lessen her beauty. In fact, the grainy picture just enhances the red hues of her hair that frame her lovely and perfect face.
He's really starting to think this constant effect she has on him isn't time lag.
- Wait, why is she crying.]
Verity. Er, ehm. Have we... oh... hmm...
History hasn't collapsed in on itself or anything, has it?
[Oh. Well that is an odd question. She should have realized. She should have been paying more attention - not taking notice of the clues, she really must be off her head just at the sight of him - she might have remembered. Time is fluid. Just because she remembers the denouement doesn't mean he will.
In the end, she tells herself, if doesn't really matter. All that matters is that he's here. She wants to go running out right now and find him just so she can see him in person, his silly and all. To cry on his shoulder and tell him everything. But for the moment, she wipes her tears.]
No, it's all right, Ned. We made everything right in the end. Bishop's Bird Stump and Mr C and everything.
[And really, it's bad enough that she said that much. She shouldn't tell him the whole story, no matter how much she might want to.]
This place is outside of time, as far as I can tell. Like the continuum has pulled us out of our timeline for some reason.
[Again. But she shouldn't say that either until she finds out how much he knows.]Oh, Ned.
( ... )
[Oh. It occurs to him for the first time that this might be a dream. Which is an absurd notion in itself because it implies he's been able to sleep long enough to have one.]
Are you sure? Things were looking rather hopeless there for awhile.
[He furrows his brow, trying to process what she's telling him. He's never been good with the technical side of time travel.]
So you're saying we're not in the space-time continuum at all. Or at least not ours.
[That's not good. Has anyone ever proved there was only one? He can't remember. Everything is a mess of Lady Schrapnell-shaped terror, the useless customs that made up the Victorian era, and the horrific gaudy hieroglyphics of the bishop's birdstump.
But if they're outside of it, does that mean they can't get back in? Is that why she's crying? How long has she been waiting for him? She looks roughly the same, so it can't have been that long.Well, it can't be too much different here, can it? I was walking round thinking I might just be time-lagged and unable to recognise Victorian
( ... )
[Maybe she can risk it. If what Ichigo said about this place erasing people's memories when they return to their own timeline is true, then it should be safe to tell him a few things without disrupting the continuum.]
We were at the consecration of the cathedral. And there wasn't a surplice or a yellow chrysanthemum out of place. You don't remember it?
I think this is a sort of quarantine zone. I've met so many impossible people here, Ned. It's amazing. But one of them suggested that it was a sort of pocket universe or alternate reality, and I think we've been put here for a reason. There are too many statistical impossiblities happening in one place for this to just be some kind of accident. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get back to Oxford to check on my theories and I can't find a computer sophisticated enough to run a proper sim.
[She has either had a good deal more sleep than Ned has, or a good deal more coffee
( ... )
[Who is this chivalrous gentleman. And why is your hair so... symmetrical? And your protective gaze so dashing? Ned has tried to practise that sort of gaze in the mirror from time to time. It always just looks like he's got something in his eye.]
Well, if you must know, I am her...
[Consider your words carefully, Ned. "Fiancé" is a foolish, possibly time lag-influenced wish. "Friend" sounds suspiciously uncomplicated. "Cousin" or might seem vaguely incestuous, although that might be a thing here, if they're going for the Victorian flair.]
... I am her Lord Peter Wimsey. Her partner in crime, if you will.
[Take that, Blondie. He can be dashing and chivalrous too!]
trolololo-- hi :3prescientbladeNovember 2 2011, 03:11:15 UTC
[She just barely knows what a victorian era is, and only because of being in Anatole so long. She also has never heard of a jumble sale. Or a penwiper.]
[Why YES, Teresa. Yes he has! He's accepted it and gotten over it and no one's even pointed it out so he was close to assuming maybe it was just his imagination or another side effect of time lag like Difficulty Distinguishing Level Facial Hair and-]
Did you realise you're... [Ummm] ...practically naked in that brazen outfit?
[Sorry, he's just spent a lot of time in a place where showing your bare ankle was wild beyond all reason and you're kind of in profile and shall we say, well-endowed.
[Have a young human (not really) male, regarding you suspiciously.]
The time-space conn, con-tin-you-umm seem-zuh to be protected here. I could name many things, ing-zuh, that should have broken it, and have not, to my knowledge.
I cannot still be in the Victorian era. I cannot. Would you like to know why?
[He shakes the Forge violently.]
They didn't have bloody handhelds in 1880-whatever. I don't care how many waistcoats or bowler hats you lot have. Or jumble sales. Or penwipers. It's just not possible. I know that much, even without listening to the damn tapes.
[Deep healing breath. Deep healing breath. At which point something unsettling seems to occur to him.]
Unless we have damaged the space-time continuum for the rest of who knows how long that's going to be.
...
[He clears his throat and tugs at his tight collar.]
Right then. Where am I? Who are you? And can anyone named Verity hear me?
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Or she tried never to think that. But no matter how she tried, she'd never lost hope or faith that he would come for her, no matter what. A belief she held onto even when reason told her it was impossible.
So have a video, Ned, and a familiar face, too. Sorry, Ned, even though she's smiling she can't keep her eyes from tearing up a little.]
Hello, Ned.
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[You'd think viewing her on an itty bitty screen would lessen her beauty. In fact, the grainy picture just enhances the red hues of her hair that frame her lovely and perfect face.
He's really starting to think this constant effect she has on him isn't time lag.
- Wait, why is she crying.]
Verity. Er, ehm. Have we... oh... hmm...
History hasn't collapsed in on itself or anything, has it?
Reply
In the end, she tells herself, if doesn't really matter. All that matters is that he's here. She wants to go running out right now and find him just so she can see him in person, his silly and all. To cry on his shoulder and tell him everything. But for the moment, she wipes her tears.]
No, it's all right, Ned. We made everything right in the end. Bishop's Bird Stump and Mr C and everything.
[And really, it's bad enough that she said that much. She shouldn't tell him the whole story, no matter how much she might want to.]
This place is outside of time, as far as I can tell. Like the continuum has pulled us out of our timeline for some reason.
[Again. But she shouldn't say that either until she finds out how much he knows.]Oh, Ned. ( ... )
Reply
Are you sure? Things were looking rather hopeless there for awhile.
[He furrows his brow, trying to process what she's telling him. He's never been good with the technical side of time travel.]
So you're saying we're not in the space-time continuum at all. Or at least not ours.
[That's not good. Has anyone ever proved there was only one? He can't remember. Everything is a mess of Lady Schrapnell-shaped terror, the useless customs that made up the Victorian era, and the horrific gaudy hieroglyphics of the bishop's birdstump.
But if they're outside of it, does that mean they can't get back in? Is that why she's crying? How long has she been waiting for him? She looks roughly the same, so it can't have been that long.Well, it can't be too much different here, can it? I was walking round thinking I might just be time-lagged and unable to recognise Victorian ( ... )
Reply
[Maybe she can risk it. If what Ichigo said about this place erasing people's memories when they return to their own timeline is true, then it should be safe to tell him a few things without disrupting the continuum.]
We were at the consecration of the cathedral. And there wasn't a surplice or a yellow chrysanthemum out of place. You don't remember it?
I think this is a sort of quarantine zone. I've met so many impossible people here, Ned. It's amazing. But one of them suggested that it was a sort of pocket universe or alternate reality, and I think we've been put here for a reason. There are too many statistical impossiblities happening in one place for this to just be some kind of accident. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get back to Oxford to check on my theories and I can't find a computer sophisticated enough to run a proper sim.
[She has either had a good deal more sleep than Ned has, or a good deal more coffee ( ... )
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Well, if you must know, I am her...
[Consider your words carefully, Ned. "Fiancé" is a foolish, possibly time lag-influenced wish. "Friend" sounds suspiciously uncomplicated. "Cousin" or might seem vaguely incestuous, although that might be a thing here, if they're going for the Victorian flair.]
... I am her Lord Peter Wimsey. Her partner in crime, if you will.
[Take that, Blondie. He can be dashing and chivalrous too!]
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Er, I'm fairly certain Verity's no criminal.
I take it you're from her world then, Wimsy? [ a beat, eyebrows raised. ] She never mentioned you.
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[But she does know one thing!]
Did you realize your mustache is crooked?
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Did you realise you're... [Ummm] ...practically naked in that brazen outfit?
[Sorry, he's just spent a lot of time in a place where showing your bare ankle was wild beyond all reason and you're kind of in profile and shall we say, well-endowed.
... He needs a nap.]
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Am I?
[She just has to glance down, as though she's never seen herself before.]
Don't be ridiculous. I'm covered, aren't I? If I was practically naked it would look a lot different.
[...just gonna grab her collar, yep.]
I could show you.
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...Although not that direct.]
No! No. That won't be necessary.
[Good grief. Most people aren't that forward even in his own time.]
Safe bet this isn't actually Victorian England, though.
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[also she releases her collar.]
If you insist.
I've heard it compared to such, but it isn't any kind of England. Just Anatole.
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[Have a young human (not really) male, regarding you suspiciously.]
The time-space conn, con-tin-you-umm seem-zuh to be protected here. I could name many things, ing-zuh, that should have broken it, and have not, to my knowledge.
Reply
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